


Nightlight

by boomerbird10



Category: NCIS
Genre: 16x13, Canon-Compliant, Episode: She, Eventual Tiva, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25988722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomerbird10/pseuds/boomerbird10
Summary: "You know, Morgan's mom... I used to drop her off at Ziva's office late at night so they could talk, you know? She used to call Ziva her nightlight."When Ziva makes a grave error after being assigned her first big solo case, she vows to right that wrong, no matter what it takes... and no matterhow longit takes. Zivawillfind Morgan Burke, even if she's the only one left searching for her.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Nightlight

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! There are some logistical things that I'd like you to be made aware of... so please, read this before you proceed! This story will span approximately a decade, from the end of 2009 until the beginning of 2020. As far as I know, the sequences and dates of events should be canon-compliant, though NCIS conflicts with itself a few times and I had to make some executive decisions and minor adjustments. If anything confuses you, please let me know and I'll be happy to clarify... I have a very detailed timeline in my plotting doc! Obviously, with that much time being covered, some amounts of time will be only summarized or occasionally skipped past entirely... this fic will focus on the beginning of the case (shortly after Ziva starts NCIS as a probie in season 7) and the end of the case (when Bishop picks it up again in season 16). At this point, it looks like there will be 17 chapters, though that may expand a little later if necessary. There won't be any fewer than that. Alright, I think that's everything, meaning that we're ready to start with chapter one... as always, thanks for reading!
> 
> This is for my friend Annalise. :)

**Tuesday, November 17th, 2009**

"Ziva?"

"Yes?" Ziva looks up expectantly to see Gibbs staring at her from his desk.

"Grab your gear."

"What do we have?" she asks, already rising to her feet and reaching for her bag.

"Not we. You."

Ziva pauses for a moment, her mouth slightly open as she processes the implications of what Gibbs just said. "Me? _Only_ me?"

There's a slight challenge in Gibbs' face; Ziva knows him well enough to see that he's amused. "If you think you can handle it."

Ziva breaks out into a grin, too excited to censor herself. "Of _course_ I can."

"Good. Here's what you've got: 18-year-old Navy Seaman Recruit Morgan Burke didn't report for duty today—and yesterday should have been her first day, but she didn't show then, either. Her mother reported her missing around the same time her CO reported her AWOL on Monday morning. Now that it's been 24 hours, she's considered an official missing person and it becomes our problem. Go find her, and find out why she didn't start like she was supposed to. Got it?"

"Yes. Thank you, Gibbs. I will get to the bottom of it."

In return, Gibbs gives her a rare smile and hands her a written-down address not far outside of Washington. "Get to work, Ziver."

* * *

Morgan Burke's house in Falls Church is only a 25-minute drive away from NCIS… or an 18-minute drive if Ziva is the one behind the wheel like she is today. She spends the time thinking—reflecting, really.

This is a small case, for sure. It's not one that would usually be handled by the MCRT at all, and Tony or McGee would not find it to be exciting in the least. For Ziva, though… This is a sign. It's a sign that she's being trusted as an agent in her own right, that she has truly made the switch from Mossad to NCIS. She's been back in the US for some six weeks now, and she's been a probie for just over a month. This is a new chapter of her life, and she's excited for it.

Hopefully, it'll be a good one.

When she arrives at Morgan's house, Ziva is surprised to find that there's already a fair amount of activity going on at this address; there are two Breen County Sheriff's Office squad cars parked on the street, and as Ziva pulls up behind the second one, she can count at least two officers on the lawn and one more visible through a window inside.

Frowning, she parks and gets out to find out what they're doing here.

One of the officers on the lawn sees her approach, and he says something quiet to the uniformed man next to him, apparently sending him inside. When Ziva is a few feet away, the remaining officer gives her a tight smile and a small wave. "Ma'am, there is an active investigation happening here right now. I'm going to have to ask you to—"

Annoyed already, Ziva flips open and holds out her government credentials, flashing her badge for good measure. "Special Agent Ziva David, NCIS," she introduces herself shortly.

"Detective Paul Atwood, Breen County Sheriff's Office."

Ziva nods in acknowledgment. "What is going on here?"

The detective considers her for a moment before shrugging. "Got a missing persons report about the woman who lives here."

"Morgan Burke?"

"That's the one."

"Why are you here at all? Morgan Burke is a Navy recruit. This is an NCIS case."

Atwood gives her a look. "Before this week, did she serve a purpose for the Navy? Had she ever worked a single day in her new position?"

"Well, not yet, but—"

"Then this isn't your case."

Ziva recoils slightly, surprised at having been so thoroughly dismissed. "I do not agree," she says frankly, frowning.

"Doesn't matter if you do, really. This is about jurisdiction, not opinions. Now, I really don't have time to argue with you... There's a missing woman to find. Have your agency sort out the paperwork, please, and stay out of our way."

Then he turns on his heel and walks away without another word as if he has decided that the conversation is now over. He disappears into the house, leaving a highly frustrated Ziva behind him. She almost stops him, but then she doesn't… and it takes her a moment to understand exactly why she's hesitating.

It's not that she's a shrinking violet—quite the opposite, in fact. She has never been one to take things lying down. But this situation… this is _new_ , and she's not certain of how to handle it.

Until very recently, she never had true authority in the US. Four years at NCIS as a Mossad Liaison Officer rather than an agent meant four years of arguments over jurisdiction being hashed out without any input from her—an Israeli who really had no jurisdiction in the US at all beyond what was directly afforded her by her host agency. If anything like this ever came up, Ziva was always working with someone who knew American law more thoroughly than she did. She'd become accustomed to deferring to Gibbs or even sometimes Tony or McGee for things like this. Now, it's up to her, and she's not sure what the right answer is.

It's time to swallow her pride and ask for help.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, Ziva wanders back to her car—she can feel Atwood watching her through an open window of the house, and she doesn't want him to hear her if he's listening in.

Once she's a suitable distance away, she calls Gibbs' cell. His phone goes straight to voicemail, and Ziva can barely stop herself from rolling her eyes. He'd be awfully peeved if he couldn't reach _her_.

Well, maybe he's at his desk and can be reached there. She calls that number next, and to her relief, the line is picked up after a couple of rings. "You've reached the desk of Leroy Jethro Gibbs," says a familiar, cheerful voice, and Ziva actually _does_ roll her eyes this time.

"If I wanted to speak to _you_ , Tony, it is _your_ number that I would have dialed."

"Ah, Ziiiiva David! I wondered where you'd disappeared to. What's going on?"

"Please give the phone to Gibbs," Ziva replies instead of answering the question.

"He's not here."

"Where is he? I tried to call his cell phone first, but he did not answer."

"That's probably because he snapped it down the middle about half an hour ago when it rang for the fourth time in five minutes. Not sure where he went… he doesn't exactly tell me his every move. What's happening, though? Maybe I can help you."

"You cannot."

"How do you know? Come on, Ziva," Tony whines, making Ziva snort. "Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless you share with _everyone_!"

"How old are you, Tony? Five?" She's leaning into the bickering, trying to avoid explaining the situation to her partner... because she's honestly embarrassed at letting the Breen County detective push her around, regardless of whether the man is right about jurisdiction. She's not sure Tony would let her live it down, if he knew.

"It's rude to ask a man his age."

"English is not my first language, yet even _I_ know you are saying that phrase wrong. It is women who are not meant to be asked, yes?"

"I'm _adapting the phrase_ , Ziva. That's what makes me a great agent, I can think on my feet and make changes when necessary! I'm like a chameleon. But why can't you just—"

He stops talking suddenly, and Ziva can hear another voice in the background. Then there's thirty seconds of inconsistent static—she suspects that Tony put the phone against his chest to block the microphone for the moment but had only limited success, because she can hear a few muffled words. The conversation seems to end, after which Tony comes back on the line. "There's someone who wants to talk to you."

"Who—?" Ziva starts to ask, but then she's interrupted.

"What can we do for you, Special Agent David?" It's Vance, and Ziva breathes a silent sigh of relief. He's not who she wanted to talk to about all of this, but after failing to reach Gibbs himself, she just wants _someone_ to defer to so she doesn't make the wrong choice about the case.

"I am in Falls Church," she explains hesitantly. "Gibbs sent me to—"

"Just a moment," Vance cuts in. Ziva can hear him turn slightly away from the phone, and his voice starts to sound rather... pointed. "Don't you have _work_ to do, Special Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony's distant reply is just barely audible. "Um, right, I'll just—"

"Stop eavesdropping and do what I pay you to do? Good idea." Then, after a pause, Vance speaks back into the receiver. "My apologies. You were saying, David?"

"I am here to investigate Morgan Burke—she is a new Navy recruit, and she was reported missing when she failed to report on her first day of duty. That was yesterday, meaning that she is now an official missing person. When I arrived at her house, detectives from Breen County were already here. They have told me that the case is theirs because NCIS does not have jurisdiction. I am not certain if they are right or wrong, and I do not know how Gibbs would want me to proceed."

"Hm, alright. Well, Gibbs is out of the office right now… but _I'll_ tell you what to do: go ahead and hand the case off to Breen County."

"Really? You agree that this is their jurisdiction?" Ziva had expected the opposite response, actually.

"It's kind of a grey area. If they're already there, and they're already working, there's no need to take over. We don't have unlimited resources… and Burke may have signed a contract, but she hasn't served—she's not really an active service member yet. There are other cases you could be working on here, and someone going AWOL isn't our top priority most of the time anyway. Unless… well, there's no sign that her disappearance could be directly related to the job she was about to start here, is there?"

"Not that I can discern. Even if she had already begun working in her new position, she would not have had access to anything classified or sensitive. She was only starting as an E-1."

"That's what I thought… and in that case, the sheriff's office can handle this."

"Alright. Thank you, Director Vance."

"Sure. Do what you need to do and I'll sign off on it when you get back."

"I understand."

* * *

It turns out that the first documentation for this case—the missing persons report—was initially filed at NCIS, predating the identical form received by Breen County an hour later… so it takes a bit of paperwork to officially turn the case over, regardless of which department should legally be working it. Ziva gets the technicalities sorted eventually and returns to the office; as promised, Vance signs the necessary forms, and Ziva moves on with her day.

There's always more work to be done at this job, and by the time Gibbs returns to the bullpen from wherever he disappeared to this morning, Ziva is already knee-deep in the process of writing a report for a case they closed yesterday. She hears her name as her boss steps off the elevator, and she looks up to see him rounding the corner onto their aisle of desks.

Gibbs comes to a stop in front of her own workspace, staring at her with his characteristic lack of patience.

"Give me an update," he orders, bearish as usual but not brusque enough to be rude.

"About—"

"Morgan Burke."

Ziva saves the document containing her report and then minimizes it in order to give Gibbs her full attention. "I went to her house in Falls Church when I left here," she begins, "but when I arrived, the local sheriff's department was already on the scene. They told me that this case falls under _their_ jurisdiction, not ours." Gibbs' eyes narrow, making Ziva nervous, but she pushes on, watching as his expression starts to darken with every word she speaks. "I did not agree, but they insisted that they were correct—because Morgan Burke is a registered resident of Breen County who has not yet actually started her new position as a Seaman Recruit. Following instructions from Director Vance, I finally ended up transferring the case over to them."

Gibbs is now looking positively thunderous, giving Ziva the impression that she made a grave misstep.

That impression is quickly confirmed to be accurate.

"You _what_?" Gibbs asks, fuming, his voice quieter than Ziva would have expected it to be. That isn't a good sign; she suspects, rather, that he's forcing himself not to blow up at her in front of the entire office.

"I tried to call y—"

Gibbs cuts her off; he doesn't want to hear it. "With me. _Now_."

For the second time today, Ziva feels wrong-footed, and, frowning and picking anxiously at her necklace with one hand, she follows Gibbs as he storms out.

He leads her to the conference room and directs her inside—she briefly wonders why he chose this room rather than the elevator, but it doesn't take long for the answer to become clear.

"Sit," Gibbs says gruffly, gesturing to the end of the table that's farthest from the door; Ziva does as she's told. It doesn't escape her notice that Gibbs doesn't sit down himself, giving her the nearly-forgotten feeling of being a young student awaiting reprimand from a grumpy schoolteacher that towers over her.

Before Gibbs continues, he sharply yanks on a pull cord for the blinds over the window until the slats jerkily start to move. Finally, they draw up and a view of the bright November afternoon beyond becomes visible. "Now, look outside," Gibbs insists, his voice still irate.

From Ziva's seat, she can see a loop of the Anacostia River sparkling in the sunlight down below, flanked on one side by Anacostia Park and on the other by the rest of the Navy Yard. It's a scene that she sees every day, and she's not sure what to make of the command to look.

"Do you see where we are?" Gibbs demands.

"I do not understand the question."

"Where do you _work_ , Ziva?"

"Here... at the NCIS building in the Navy Yard." Ziva tries very hard not to let any uncertainty into her voice, but he's still making her feel like a child—making her question every decision she has made today. She doesn't appreciate the feeling, especially when she doesn't know where this lecture-to-be is leading.

Apparently, though, she said the right thing, choosing whichever cue words Gibbs was listening for and giving him ammunition... because he nods curtly as if she has just made his point for him. "You're damn right," he growls. " _Navy_."

"Gibbs, I—"

She doesn't get to finish, because he firmly cuts her off.

" _Everyone_ on this base—every officer, every enlisted, _every_ person serving in the Navy—took an oath to protect this country. It's _our_ job to protect them while they do it."

"I understand that, but—"

"No, I don't think you do!" Gibbs snaps, interrupting her yet again in a fit of aggravated impatience. "If you did, you wouldn't have left Morgan Burke to a department that _rarely_ deals with missing persons! They won't know what to do with her!"

Ziva is starting to get a little angry herself, tired of playing catch up while Gibbs berates and talks down to her. "Detective Atwood told me that it was not my jurisdiction!" she argues, her voice taking on an edge of frustration. "That is a legal matter, is it not? I called you to ask if he was right, and _you did not answer your phone_! What was I supposed to _do_?"

Her less-than-meek rebuttal seems to exasperate Gibbs even further, because he throws his hands up in the air. "Your job, do you hear me? You were supposed to do your _job_!"

"My job is what I _did_ —and that is _all_ I did! In fact, I would still be doing it now if not for the fact that you dragged me in here to yell at me!"

"Don't give me that bull! Just _don't_. If you think you did everything you were supposed to do, maybe you shouldn't be on my team—because _your_ job is to investigate what _I_ tell you to investigate, and that's the thing you seem to have forgotten!"

"But the case was _not ours to investigate_!"

Ziva can't understand _why_ this is so important to Gibbs—this one little case that could so easily (and probably _does_ ) have a benign explanation. Technicalities of jurisdiction aside, Morgan Burke may have simply changed her mind about joining the Navy and left the area to buy herself some time. Why does it matter who gets to the bottom of it, so long as the explanation is found?

Gibbs _finally_ answers that question, stopping them from going around in circles. "If this wasn't a Navy matter, I wouldn't have had you look into it to you in the first place, Ziva!" Angrily shaking his head and glaring out the window, Gibbs smacks his hand down on the back of the chair across the table from Ziva's own. Then he looks her in the eye again, leaning down toward her to make sure she's paying close attention. "Morgan Burke took an _oath_. She _was_ Navy—and we never hand over one of our own. If we did, you'd be dead and buried in the Guban Desert, and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Ziva can't help it—she visibly flinches at the reference to her imprisonment in a Somali terrorist camp. With her psychological wounds from _that_ disaster still fresh and stinging, she doesn't like thinking about the events of this summer... though they're never far from her thoughts, even when no one speaks of them. Gibbs' reminder has accomplished exactly what he meant for it to, however—it has suddenly and _sharply_ put this case into perspective for her. This isn't about jurisdiction. It's about never giving up on people, and making sure that no one is forgotten.

_We never hand over one of our own._

Ziva can see that Gibbs is right, and any frustration that she was feeling while being chastised abruptly drains away.

"I am sorry, Gibbs. I am." Her apology is very quiet, lacking the fire of her indignant disagreement moments before.

Maybe Gibbs can see her sincerity, because he softens slightly in response. Ziva can read his thoughts in his face—he hadn't meant to hurt her, just to make a point, but it's something that he thinks she needed to learn. "Don't be sorry," he tells her, his voice gentler. "Be _better_."

Ziva straightens up, nodding seriously. "I will."

"Good. Because whatever happens to Morgan Burke after this… it's on you."

Then he goes, leaving the door first swinging slightly and then hanging ajar behind him, and Ziva alone stays behind to think about what he just said.

* * *

Eventually, she pulls herself together and goes back to her desk; Gibbs, Tony, and McGee are all in the bullpen already. Gibbs ignores her entrance, but Tony and McGee look up at her.

Ziva doesn't mean the eyes of either of them; she isn't ready to admit to her friends that she has failed.

As she sits, she can see them both in her periphery—they're looking at one another, silently daring each other to be the one to ask her what's wrong. That's a battle that McGee appears to lose, because after a moment, he clears his throat. "Are you alright, Ziva?" he asks hesitantly, and Ziva finally looks away from her computer screen to stare at him. He seems to be regretting the decision to speak.

"I am fine," she answers, her voice unusually stiff—the hint there should be very clear. _Drop it, McGee._

"Are you sure? You seem a little upset about someth—"

"I am _fine_ ," she repeats. This time, her tone is distinctly cold, and he finally understands that she doesn't want to talk.

"Right. Sorry."

He clearly doesn't believe her, and Ziva knows that Tony doesn't, either… but she's made her point. No one presses her on her denial.

At least not for now.

* * *

The rest of the day is a quiet one, case-wise, which is excellent… because Ziva is already wrapped up in something of her own.

She has received the message that Gibbs was trying to express to her, loud and clear—she made a mistake, and it's up to her to fix it. It doesn't matter if the case has officially passed from her hands or not, because either way, she owes it to Morgan Burke, to Gibbs, to the Navy as a whole to look more deeply into the recruit's disappearance… but even more than that, she owes it to herself.

She was raised by a father who was… focused on the bigger picture, to phrase it generously. People don't matter individually to Eli David, and they never have—he only cares about their roles in the grand scheme of his own plans. Why not send an officer to take out a rogue spy-turned-traitor... even if that spy is his son? On that note, why rescue his daughter from pain, from torture, from being degraded and used and hurt and humiliated in a terrorist camp… if doing so would risk losing more highly-trained members of the organization he leads?

Eli gives up on people, and he always has. Ziva doesn't, and now is not the time to start following in her father's footsteps.

By agreeing to hire her, NCIS has decided to trust her, despite her checkered past. They've decided that she's one of them, and that she deserves their loyalty… Ziva needs to prove to herself that they're right. It's time for her to put some faith in herself, too.

It's time to work—and time, on that matter, is of the essence for Morgan Burke. The first forty-eight hours of a case like this are crucial.

With that in mind, Ziva starts to reach out to every local contact she has. In addition to people she has worked with in her time at NCIS, she calls on old Mossad friends, too—anyone in the area, anyone with connections, anyone she thinks might be able to help. By the end of the day, she has a fair amount of information gathered through backchannels alone, in addition to what she's found searching through NCIS's resources. For now, she can't go out and search for Morgan herself, or interview anyone else about her—though she'll certainly try at the first opportunity. Instead, she gathers information about Morgan's pre-Navy life and all the people who have had roles in it.

If Morgan's disappearance is related to something more nefarious than simple cold feet over starting her Navy career, then the investigation becomes much more serious, and much more urgent. Ziva is ready to treat it like that has already happened, and she makes a list...

As of today, there are five people that she's certain will be vital to this investigation.

First is Morgan's mother—Liliana Burke, nee Lewis. She's the one that reported Morgan missing—first to NCIS, and shortly after to Breen County. By all accounts, she seems to be a devoted parent… and she likely knows more about Morgan than anyone else does. If this drags out, she'll almost unquestionably be a valuable source of information once Ziva has already made use of all readily available public information.

Then there's Morgan's father—Chirstopher "Chris" Burke, who Ziva learns is recently deceased. The details of his death raise something of a red flag for her, and she makes as many notes as she can given the scant information available online. The listed cause of death is a gunshot wound to the head, and it was ruled a suicide. Given how long he's been dead, though—less than five months at this point!—Ziva can't stop herself from wondering if his death and Morgan's disappearance are not as separate as they seem. Appearances can be deceiving, and it's possible that the suicide ruling was incorrect. It'll be something to look further into, at least, and it could give Ziva a new avenue to explore if her first instincts fail.

Next on her list is Benjamin "Ben" Ramsey, Morgan's boyfriend. Like Morgan, he's still young—19, almost 20—and he works as a printer. As far as Ziva was able to find on social media, he and Morgan have been dating for just shy of two years. Maybe their relationship is as solid as it seems to be from Facebook posts, but it strikes Ziva as strange that Liliana was the one to report Morgan missing, not Ben. She remembers how it felt to be young and infatuated… surely Ben should have noticed that Morgan was gone, even before she failed to show up to her first day of work.

Also up for consideration is Morgan's ex-boyfriend, Justin Ward. While researching the people in Morgan's life, Ward stood out to Ziva because he has a criminal history—and it's a history that's significant enough to worry her. Early in his teen years, around the time he was apparently dating Morgan, he was arrested for petty theft. He only received a slap on the wrist. Not long after, though, assault charges were filed against him and later dropped; Ziva would like to get the full story on _that_ before she dismisses it as irrelevant, because there has to be a good reason the charges were filed to begin with. Then, however, she finds out that since 2007, he has been in prison in Pennsylvania for armed robbery. That certainly points to a violent streak that could lead him to hurt an ex-girlfriend, but unfortunately, it also gives him an ironclad alibi… so Ziva moves him down the suspect list for now. She doesn't remove him entirely, though; he could still be involved.

The last person that Ziva wants to talk to or look into further as soon as possible is Chelsea Reed, Morgan's long-time best friend. She seems to be a fairly unobtrusive person—she's never been arrested, she's never made the news, and she has a decent credit score with no notable delinquencies—but she's important for at least one reason… If Ziva's sources are correct, Chelsea was the last person to be seen with Morgan Burke prior to her disappearance.

Five names, five directions to move in... That's all Ziva has, all she can get without physically investigating for herself.

Though none of her research has led her to a clear answer on _where_ Morgan is, it _has_ given her a starting point to work from… and as she packs her bag to leave for the day, she's already planning what to pursue next.

She can fix this mistake. She _can_.

It's time to throw herself into this case, and as soon as the team is dismissed for the night, Ziva jumps up, ready to do just that.

As she heads for the elevator, though, someone stops her. "Wait, Ziva."

She turns to see that it's Tony, and he looks cautious, wary. They're still awkwardly getting back into the rhythm of their old friendship, so his recent behavior has been less pushy than in years past, something Ziva wishes he would get past… but as much as she wants to repair that relationship, and as much as she appreciates Tony and generally enjoys talking to him, all she really wants right now is to go home or to her private office and work as long as she can, finally free from the distraction of having other people around.

She considers him with her eyebrows raised. "Yes?"

"What happened today?"

The question makes her grimace, and when she answers, she's aware that she sounds a little snappy. It's hard to stop herself from being short with him… she'll make it up to him when she solves this case and rights what has gone wrong.

"I do not believe that every moment of every day in my life is your personal business, Tony. Not everything revolves around you."

"Hey, there's no need to get defensive," Tony replies, frowning at her. "I'm just trying to... you know what? Never mind. Forget it. Have a good night."

Ziva grits her teeth, the stress of a difficult day making her more easily irritated than she usually is. "No, what do you want to say, Tony? Please, do not censor yourself."

"Fine." Tony gives her a look. "I was worried about you, okay? You've acted like you're upset for hours now, and I wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help… that's all I wanted to say. You really don't have to jump down my throat."

Ziva softens a little—Tony doesn't know yet what happened, and he doesn't know that he's asking about something she's ashamed of. She's being too hard on him—not for the first time—and that isn't fair. "I am sorry, Tony," she apologies. "That was… rude of me."

He shrugs and sticks his hands in his pockets, watching her carefully. "I wasn't really offended," he promises.

"Still," Ziva insists quietly, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his arm with a gentle squeeze of apology; he doesn't move a muscle. "I was not being fair to you, and you were only trying to be a good friend."

Abruptly, she misses the way their friendship was pre-Michael and pre-Somalia… six months ago, if she had snapped at Tony, he would have snapped right back and only gotten more nosy until he found the answers he wanted. It's weird to see him just give up and stop badgering her so quickly.

"I do appreciate the offer for help... but there is not much you can do for me right now," she finishes.

Tony nods, but his concerned expression doesn't entirely fade away. "Are you alright?"

Ziva shrugs. "For now, I promise that I am."

"For now?"

Ziva gives him a very small smile. "You do not have to worry about me, Tony."

He doesn't look like he agrees, but he doesn't argue, taking her words at face value for now with another nod instead. "Okay. Well… good luck with whatever it is, I guess."

"Thank you, Tony. Good night."

"Night, Ziva."

She gives him one last tired smile and leaves; she can feel his eyes on her back until she's out of his sight, the elevator doors closed behind her.

* * *

She works for as long as she can make her eyes focus after getting to her small office after work, pouring over everything she can find until the wee hours of the morning, but she still isn't able to draw any definite conclusions. Recognizing that she'll be more observant and more likely to make important connections after some much-needed rest, she reluctantly retires for the night. Then she locks up her office and goes home, waving to Odette when she spots her friend watching from her window on the way out.

Odette only rarely sleeps while Ziva is here working; Ziva knows that her friend worries, though the other woman is smart enough to generally keep her concerns to herself. Tonight, Odette is right to be concerned. Ziva is… frustrated, and that's more than just her exhaustion speaking.

Once she gets home, though, and gets settled in bed, she finds it nearly impossible to turn down the volume of her restless thoughts. She can't relax enough to sleep. Morgan's face floats behind her eyelids when she shuts them, and she keeps hearing Gibbs' lecture as if he's standing in front of her repeating himself. His disappointed voice echoes again and again through the silence of Ziva's bedroom.

After a while, she opens her eyes again and stops trying to force sleep that just isn't going to come tonight.

Instead, she stares blankly at the dim glow of the nightlight in the hall, just visible through her open bedroom door… and she's still lost in thought when morning comes.


End file.
